


stronger for breaking

by Nyxierose



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Shower Sex, probably about to be wildly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-21 16:40:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18706225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyxierose/pseuds/Nyxierose
Summary: "They are not what they were, he thinks as they collide. They are not what they were. They are becoming so much more."





	stronger for breaking

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this fanart on tumblr](https://mallister.tumblr.com/post/144612758004/kabby-its-a-new-beginning-sorry-english), which is much more heartbreaking three years later and... yeah. Finally checking stuff off my fic inspo tag. FINALLY.
> 
> Title from "'Til Forever" by Joy Williams. Go listen and cry.

Somehow, again, they survived.

Marcus has stopped wondering which ancient god favors him and now questions which one won't let him rest. He feels older than he is, as the aftermath of one more tragedy washes over him - but then again, he has not been young in some time. Even in a life long past, in a tin can in the sky galaxies away from where he now stands, he never had much faith in his lifespan. He would screw up _somehow_ , he always thought, and be flung out into the void.

That fate is no longer a possibility. None of the other dozens of ways he should've died have stuck. His curse, it seems, is to live.

Aftermath, tired and bruised and bleeding somewhere he hasn't found yet. How many more wars? How long will this current safety last? He knows it won't as he hopes, knows the odds of this fragile peace holding up are small. When it shatters, they will move onto the next calamity, and the next, and so on, and he doubts it will end. For others, the lucky ones, but not for him.

Unlikely for the woman he loves either, he thinks as she shifts her position in his arms.

At least he has been given this comfort, always by his side. He hasn't yet gotten the full explanation of what Abby did during the extra month or so he was kept asleep, but he does know that the woman he woke up to the second time is much different, much better than she was. A vision and a hurricane, in ways the last three days have barely begun to show. She became strong again on her own and still she stays, still she fights for him, still she clings as ashes fall.

They are safe, for now, in a forgotten complex. Abandoned half-started farm colony, if Marcus overheard right - the explanations, like everything else since he was brought out again, have not been particularly clear. Safe, is the key part. Safe and enough space for their group to spread out, enough space for the two of them to be alone as needed. Hopefully time is on their side. The last three days have been nonstop, and he knows he can't go much longer without rest. A few hours at most, and even that is pushing it, and-

"We should… we should clean off, while we can," she murmurs.

They're in a space that was likely designed as living quarters for a family. It reminds him uncomfortably of the compartments back on the Ark - a little less sparse, more designed to be lived in, but in other ways tragically similar. The one clear advantage is the small bathroom, and as much as he would like to collapse on the bed in the opposite corner, Abby does have a point. They can theoretically sleep anywhere; running water, on the other hand, is more of a luxury.

It hurts to let go of her, temporary as that is. He is no longer a violent man but he will tear apart the next living thing that attempts to separate them. Always another horror ahead, he knows all too well, but they will face all of that together, as they did those terrible years, and-

Door closed behind them, Abby begins to strip down.

He watches. He's allowed to do that, he thinks - it was one of the few things he did allow himself when she was drowning, those moments in their space. Look but don't touch, appreciate the woman he loves so much but don't start anything he didn't feel right about finishing.

She is not that anymore. She has fought off those demons. He could kiss her right now and not taste the sad-sweet echoes of the pills she used to numb herself. He could do a lot of things, if she'd allow him, and not feel the guilt he did when she wasn't _her_ and yet reached out anyways.

He could, but he doesn't. Not yet.

If anything, she looks more fragile as her layers come off. Time has weighed her down differently, and he knows some of that was due to her own choices but perhaps not as much as one might think. What softness she once had is gone, replaced by lines and an inherent tiredness. Did she sleep at all, that month he didn't have? Not well, clearly. He is reminded of a slightly quieter point in their timeline, the month she all but moved into their workspace and pushed herself as hard as she could because exhaustion was easier than missing someone who could not come back to her. She's always had an uncommon gift for self-destruction, in the subtle ways that few people bother to look for, and-

"Pretty sure the hot water doesn't work," Abby says, snapping him out of his mental wandering. She's naked, several feet away from him, one arm under the showerhead. Water pressure appears to be in their favor, and that alone will be lovely, but-

"Too tired to care," he murmurs.

He realizes he's still wearing far too many layers and sheds them quickly, self-conscious as his skin is exposed. This is not new, Marcus reminds himself - he trusts his partner, and she has seen almost all of this plenty of times - and yet still fear. He's healed now, enough to be functional without dramatic problems, but his body will never fully come back from more recent tragedies. He bruises easier now, and the leg injury he's ignored since it happened has decided to assert itself in more annoying ways. Time catches up, and he is not what he was, and-

Oh, now is no time to fall apart over something he can't do anything about, but it would be so easy. Everything would be so easy. Everything would be-

He blinks and she's closer, shaking as she puts a hand on his abdomen. So little is his fault, and yet he hates himself for the hell she has been through recently, she hates-

"Stay with me, Marcus," she murmurs. "I don't trust this is going to last, so we might as well use it."

Eyes closed, he follows her into the water. The comment about temperature wasn't totally inaccurate, but nor is it as cold as he braces for. More of a neutral lukewarm, comfortable enough as it falls on his skin. He feels just how exhausted he is, and how easy it would be to drift, and-

"At what point did you plan on telling me about that?"

He opens his eyes and sees her tracing the outline of a cut on his upper arm that, quite frankly, he has _no_ memory of acquiring. Happened at some point in the last day or so, obviously, but there are _options_ within that bracket and-

"Am I allowed to say I didn't notice?"

"You're an idiot," she mutters, and then she leans up and kisses him.

He is getting used to this again, the weight and taste of her and the completely-worth-it sensation of pain in the back of his neck as he leans down to make it more comfortable for her. She tastes like sadness and relief, the storm and the calm that comes after, _her_ in ways that words cannot express.

"I was a little distracted trying to protect you," he murmurs once they break apart.

Abby rolls her eyes in that playful you're-lucky-I-love-you way she does with her people. "You've been conscious again for seventy hours," she points out. "Which I hate myself for, but-"

"You found a way. I'm proud of you."

"Desperation's a powerful thing. And the ship did end up blowing up. I didn't have much of a choice on the timing."

It feels good to spar with her like this, an echo of things that once were and have since become better. "Still. You've now dramatically saved me… twice since Earth?"

"Three times. I'm counting the first time you woke up."

"Forgot that."

"I'm not _trying_ to keep track," she mutters, resting her head on his shoulder.

"I know."

He reaches up and starts attempting to untangle her hair, same as he has so many times. He still knows her so well, the soft purring noises she makes like some song he's never fully heard. They have had so much time to learn each other, and every little movement in this space has been done hundreds of times, and-

"Exactly how many people did you have to threaten?" he asks, because it's a very valid question and he'd like to know who he has to apologize to because he knows _she_ won't.

"Only two," she laughs. "I know how to get what I want."

Being reminded that he is something she wants still makes his heart flicker, and he holds her just a little bit closer because he can. Because for now, until the next storm, he is hers and she is his and they are enough.

They crash into each other, as they do. It has been too long since this kind of closeness, and he is responsive to her. In everything they have been she has overwhelmed him; right now, he suspects, more intentionally than either of them will admit.

The tiredness can wait, he decides as something else takes its place. He can collapse just as easily ten minutes later than planned and a little more whole.

"May I?" he asks, though he knows the answer.

"Please."

His hands map her body, imprinting this current version of her. She shifts against him, impatient but not enough to say anything, and oh she deserves more than this. At the very least, she deserves to be laid out on a bed or a blanket, not-

"Want you," she hisses.

This too he will feel for days afterwards, but it will be worth it. He is hesitant as he lifts her up, as if they both might break, and pins her to the wall. She kisses him as her legs wrap around him, and this is the best version of her he has ever seen, and-

They are not what they were, he thinks as they collide. They are not what they were. They are becoming so much more.

Eyes open, Marcus does what he can. This won't be physically memorable for either of them - a long-deserved reunion after the years he wouldn't touch her, and he is pleased that she still responds the same - but more significant for the emotional weight of the act. That look in her eyes like there is nothing else in the world to her right now and also like she's about to cry, and-

Time has been kind to them, in this at least. Her kisses turn to playful bites as she crosses, and he follows soon after, and there is no tactful way to say that he missed having sex with her but hadn't realized how much until it happened again, and-

He lets her down, one more kiss in the aftermath.

"Four years was worth it," Abby murmurs. "I know… I know that was my fault, but…"

He is all too aware how she carries guilt, how to stop the spiral before it begins. "I missed you too. It's over. You have… you got through. On your own."

"Not on my own," she corrects. "I knew what I needed to be if I found a way to get you back, so I became it."

"Without help…"

"But with motivation."

Like how she saved him years ago, pushed him too far and made him want to be a better man if only so they could be friends and then he accidentally fell in love along the way, except without the complications. Without the fights, without the blood, without the strange nights of talking about things that didn't matter because neither of them wanted to face monsters. Better, always.

"I don't know what I'd do without you."

He's said that many times over the years, in every tone his voice can do. This time is love.

She moves around him and turns off the water behind them. "I'm not sure I saw towels anywhere, but…"

"Out in the main room, I think."

He follows her out, as he always has. Sure enough, a pile of cloths in a corner. He expects so little in this life, and yet-

"You wanna fight my hair again? I don't… I don't feel stable enough to try to braid it."

His hands shake as he twists strands and hopes he's still doing it right. He remembers the first time she asked, two days after the Mountain - he almost passed out from shock, and she didn't let him live it down for a month. So much has changed and the memories remain, and they are here and-

He kisses the top of her head. "I tried."

"I know."

"How long…"

"A few days, maybe. I'm not sure what's going on either, apparently nobody tells me anything anymore. But I'm still good in a crisis, so… the rest of our people know where we are. Until then, we can heal."

They lie down together, and it is so easy to fade out, overwhelmed by the closeness and the beauty of her.

They survived. Maybe that's not such a bad thing after all.


End file.
